


Brother Mine

by Alyeska_Writes



Series: Brother, Sister [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Azula (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Azula (Avatar) Redemption, Flashbacks, Healing, Implied Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Mental Instability, Nightmares, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Past Azula/Ty Lee (Avatar), Sibling Bonding, Sibling Redemption, Zuko is a Good Brother, at least Azula thought it was, bc my babies deserve it, even from jail, it was Unrequited, let us all collectively agree that the way Ursa treated Azula was Not Okay, let's face it he's a terrible parent wherever he is, rated for language, sorta - Freeform, still annoyed that's not a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25581400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyeska_Writes/pseuds/Alyeska_Writes
Summary: And Zuko? Well, obviously, he had to hate her. Why shouldn’t he? In a desperate attempt to stay in their father’s good graces, she treated her brother like He did.Why shouldn't he abandon her now?Or: "Forever Now", from Azula's perspective.
Series: Brother, Sister [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1847293
Comments: 12
Kudos: 152





	Brother Mine

**Author's Note:**

> listen i had to revisit this, okay? i had to. i have fully latched myself onto these siblings. honestly don't be surprised if i continue this series past these two one shots, because i'm actually really proud of the dynamic i've got going here.
> 
> anyway, it gets kind of heavy, as to be expected, but i really hope you enjoy!

If you convince yourself that you did nothing wrong, the guilt won’t eat you alive.

At least, that’s how Azula saw it. Her mother was convinced that she was a monster, so Azula decided then and there to stop caring. The guilt couldn’t touch her if she didn’t let it. She decided that fear was a good thing. If people feared her, they wouldn’t come near her, and they wouldn’t hurt her. End of story.

So she didn’t care that Father hurt Zuko. She didn’t care that he was banished. He was weak, and he was a coward. She _wanted_ to be an only child. She didn’t care one bit for her idiot brother, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Mother loved him more. 

For several years, Azula did a really good job convincing herself as much.

And she had nothing to show for it. Fourteen years of the ‘honorable’ choices lead her here. Wasting away in an herb induced semi-coma. She tried so hard. She tried so, _so_ hard. All she wanted was Father’s approval. All she wanted was Mother’s love. And in the end, she had neither. In the end, her father treated her better than he always treated Zuko, but still treated her like a whiny child; consolation prizes and a scolding for childish behavior. At the back of her mind, Azula knew that being crowned Fire Lord while someone else reigned as the so-called Phoenix King was an oxymoron, but it was _something._ Something to hold onto in her final moments of her waning sanity.

And then, even that was taken from her, by the Water Tribe girl of all people. She had nothing.

She knew, oh spirits, she _knew_ father was disappointed in her.

Mother still didn’t love her.

And Zuko? Well, obviously, he had to hate her. Why shouldn’t he? In a desperate attempt to stay in their father’s good graces, she treated her brother like He did. And not to mention, Zuko left her. Twice. Well, the first time wasn’t really his choice, but the second time was a betrayal. Teaming up with enemies of the Fire Nation.

Why shouldn’t he abandon her now?

Trapped inside her own mind, all Azula has is bitter memories and a deep seated, unending loneliness. Everything she did, she did for her father, and for her Nation. Both of whom left her like this, a nutcase, a dangerous enemy, sedated and hidden away. Every atrocious act she committed, every name she called her brother, every _thing_ she did plays and replays in an endless loop in her mind, and she spirals and spirals until she can’t tell reality and memory from dream and fantasy.

And…maybe she deserves it. Maybe she’s an awful human being, but she can’t think that, or she’ll never know sanity again. She can’t begin to wonder how things could have been different if she never listened to her father. She can’t begin to wonder how things would have changed if Zuko had never been banished. She can’t begin to imagine how things would have been if she was as close with her brother as when they were children.

Because if she starts thinking about how he played with her, when she starts thinking about how he sang to her, when she starts thinking of his pride for his little sister, all she can see is that final Agni Kai. All she can see is him curled into himself on his side, twitching in agony, because _holy fuck she tried to kill him._ She knew him better than either of them thought they did, knew that he’d sacrifice himself to save a friend, and she used it against him.

When they were children, they were balanced on a precipice, teetering on the edge of it as they got older. It almost became a game to see who would fall off first. In the end, it was always meant to be Azula; the fall was long, hard, and endlessly terrifying.

And nobody was there to catch her.

So why, she asks herself, why is her brother here? She wishes he’d gloat. She wishes he’d tell her how horrible she is, what a monster he thinks she is. She wishes he wouldn’t look at her with pity, she wishes his expression wasn’t laced with concern. Azula doesn’t want to think that he cares about her. How could he? Why _should_ he? 

This is opening the door to an entirely new House of Madness that Azula doesn’t wish to enter. So she does what she does best. She does what she’s always done.

She pushes him away.

“Don’t act like you care,” she hisses. To which Zuko only responds, quietly,

“Don’t assume that I don’t care,”

And—no. No, he doesn’t get to _do that!_ He _left her_ and he _hated_ her and he was _scared_ of her and it was so abundantly clear, and…no. No, he doesn’t get to say that. He doesn’t get to lie to her face like that. He’s so close with the Avatar and his little friends, he’s the _Fire Lord_ now, lying doesn’t become him.

He looks so much like Mother, all concerned, sad eyes. He sounds like her, too. Soft and gentle and _fake_ and Azula hates it. She _hates it._ She wants to scratch his eyes out, wants to burn him where he stands, wants to do _something_ other than shriek at him and struggle to stand up from where she sits.

But she can’t.

She screams at his retreating form when the nurses come in to restrain her. It’s the only thing she has power to do.

* * *

_She adored him._

_Her first real memories are of her brother. She wanted to be like him. She wanted to be a firebender like him. When Mother got angry with her, her brother was there to dry her tears, and soothe her heartache. When Father yelled at her, her brother was there to make her laugh again. All she wanted, all she thought she could ever want, was for her family to be happy, for Zuko to protect her from Father’s wrath and Mother’s disapproving gaze._

_She was young, and naive. She thought she’d always have that. If she could see into the future, she would’ve known that a deep and bitter jealousy would later scar her heart. If she could see into the future, she would’ve known that Zuko would later bear the same mark on his face. If she could see into the future, Azula, bright-eyed and innocent with youth, would’ve given anything she had to prevent that. She would’ve tried harder to be a better sister, a better daughter._

_But she didn’t have anybody to tell her that she needn’t try harder than she did. She loved her family, and that should have been enough. Azula could not see into the future, and in her family, love was never enough._

* * *

She doesn’t know why he’s trying so hard. If it’s appearances that he’s trying to keep, then Azula would like to tell him not to bother. She’s not ignorant. She knows how much people hate her. If it’s a political stint, then he needn’t waste his time. What, is he visiting Father too?

(She knows he’s not. She knows Father hurt him too bad for that.)

Still, he keeps coming back.

Still, Azula tries her damnedest to push him away. She doesn’t _understand_ why it doesn’t work. Why doesn’t he hate her, when he so obviously should? He keeps his distance, and she keeps hers, so why keep trying at all? They both know it’s no use.

Azula is damned.

Zuko got a second chance because that’s always who he was. He had a sensitive side since he was young. And maybe Azula is starting to see that it’s not such a bad thing after all, maybe she’s starting to see that sensitivity is the key to empathy, and not a weakness to exploit. So maybe Zuko deserved the chance to join the Avatar and restore balance to the world. But if Azula follows that line of thought, then she certainly does not deserve the chance that Zuko got. If she lets herself ride the spiral all the way down, she’ll see that she could never be Zuko. She could never be worthy of the love the Nation and Team Avatar felt for him.

She could never be worthy of the love that Mother felt for him.

And she wants to hate him for that. She does hate him for that.

But mostly? She wants to be better. She wants _so bad_ to change, but how can she? She thrives on fear because you can’t trust anybody, and even then…there’s no way anyone would change their minds about her. The Water Tribe girl (Katara, she reminds herself) certainly wouldn’t. The Avatar might, but he’s a strange one anyway, a lot like Uncle Iroh in many ways, from what Azula can remember of them both. The fact of the matter being, Azula and Zuko are not the same.

And Zuko was far more deserving of the redemption he found.

Just like he was more deserving of Mother’s love.

Perfect little Zuko.

Evil little Azula.

It’s a never-ending cycle, isn’t it?

Her jealousy and her rage taste bitter on her tongue, and she spats them both out in every insult she throws her brother’s way, but she can never get the taste out. It’s always there, and it will always be there.

And she’s frightened.

She’s so, _so_ frightened. She doesn’t want to feel this way forever. She doesn’t want to be alone. She tries so hard to push Zuko away, to force his hand so he’ll stop coming, but she’s terrified of what will happen when he does. She’s terrified of the loneliness, creeping around the corner and under her bed and in her closet. It waits for her, a moose lion on the prowl, ready to pounce at any moment and drag her even further down into the depths of insanity.

Zuko looks like he’s ready to give up.

“Leave me alone!” Azula screams.

 _‘Please don’t leave me.’_ Azula thinks, desperately hoping that he’ll listen beyond her words, that he’ll hear what she doesn’t say.

“I hate you!”

_‘Please, just be my brother again.’_

“You’re a fool! You’re not fit to wear the crown!”

_‘Please don’t give up on me. You’re all I have left.’_

Zuko says nothing. They’ve reached the inevitable point in the afternoon where Azula has taken her tirade too far, and Zuko has to leave. She knows he’ll be swift, too, because the last time he left, he made the mistake of looking over his shoulder to meet her eye. To say he was horrified, well, that would be an understatement. She doesn’t know what it was. Was it the look in her eye or the restraints that held her down? One could never be too sure.

Still, it escalates the way it always does. The nurses come in like they always do. Zuko fixes her with a kicked deer-dog look, like he always does. But something feels different, this time, and Azula can’t quite put her finger on it. It’s there, decidedly nameless but overwhelming, like a familiar and dreaded enemy, a feeling that starts in her stomach and grows and grows until it can no longer be contained, bubbling up her throat and out into the open air.

It’s funny that she didn’t recognize it first, because it’s all she’s felt since the day she lost her battle.

Terror.

Except it’s different this time. It’s _desperate_ this time. In this moment, she’d do anything it takes to not feel like this anymore. In this moment, she wants her brother. She wants him to hold her and protect her and tell her everything will be alright, and she wants him to make it all go away.

“Zuko!” she hears herself pleading. “Zuko, help me! _Zuko please!_ ”

She wants him to turn around, she wants him to come back, she wants him to have faith in her because she wants to try to be a good person, really, she does.

He doesn’t come for her.

* * *

_The day Mother left, Azula felt strange._

_On one hand, a part of her was glad to know that she didn’t have to compete with Zuko for Mother’s attention anymore. She knew she wouldn’t have to compete with Zuko for_ anything _anymore. Father obviously favored her, and she was obviously more talented than her brother. The only thing he had that she didn’t was Mother’s love, right? And she desperately wanted that pedestal; the bitterly jealous side of her, even at the young age of nine years old, vied for all the attention. Even though, deep down, she knew that Father’s Approval was not the same as his Love. Even though, deep down, she knew that his affection was a tool to get what he wanted from his children._

_(Later, when she was older, the thought would send a wave of nausea over her so strong she thought she might double over.)_

_On the other hand…she wanted her Mom. She wanted so badly to try again. To be a better daughter. Maybe if she was nicer to Zuko, Mom might’ve stayed. Maybe if she wasn’t so much like her father, Mom might have loved her the way she loved her oldest. Maybe if she was better. She had to be better._

_In the end, the jealous part of her won the battle, and deeper into the depths of madness she tumbled, to be more like her father. Chasing the true affection she never received._

* * *

Zuko’s visits increase, strangely enough. They started out as once a month. Then once every two weeks. Now, they’re a weekly thing. Every time she sees his face, the fight in Azula begins to wane. Funny, that. She thought it’d be the opposite. But, not that she’d admit it, she looks forward to his visits. He hasn’t changed at all, aside from, y’know, the unspeakable trauma.

He spent her birthday with her. It was the best birthday she’s ever had.

She receives a surprise, though. Someone she wasn’t expecting. Her nurse informs her of a visitor, and she perks up, wondering if her brother decided to come a day early, but…no. She’s not expecting Katara, at all. Katara, with her hard eyes and mouth pressed into a thin line. Months ago, Azula would’ve demanded she be removed. Months ago, Azula would’ve wanted her dead.

That is no longer the case.

“I don’t know why Zuko keeps visiting you here,” Katara begins. What a greeting. “But just know that, if you hurt him, you’ll regret it.”

My, how the tables have turned. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Katara’s threats come from a place of love, silly as that sounds to Azula. All of her own came from an ugly place. Jealousy, hatred, the desire for power. Everything that she’s had time to inspect and come to despise about herself. Part of her wants to assure Katara that she’d never hurt Zuko, at least, not intentionally, not anymore. But then, Katara has little reason to believe her.

“My, my,” Azula drawls, instead. Even she notes the lack of condescension. She sounds tired, even to her own ears. “I had no idea you cared for our little Zuzu so much. Don’t try too hard. You’re not his type.”

Katara’s brother, maybe, but not Katara.

(That’s another thing…something their father saw in Zuko before he saw it in himself. Another thing that marked him as a disgrace. Azula never thought too much about it, because, well…)

“What? No, that’s not—I’m with Aang,” Katara tells her. Oh, well. “And besides, we all know that he’s not, like, into girls, anyway.”

(For some reason, Azula thought she and their uncle were the only ones that knew that. That dreaded emotion, envy, sparks within her once more. She squashes it down.)

“And believe it or not, I didn’t _just_ come here to threaten you,”

That’s comforting.

Katara sighs, and sits down. Much closer than Zuko dared sit during his first visits, funnily enough.

“He really believes in you, you know,” the waterbender continues. “I think he sees something in you that the rest of us don’t, and maybe it’s because he’s your sibling, or maybe it’s not, I don’t know.” she heaves another, deeper sigh, and continues, “But you’re right. I do care about him. It took a long time, but we got there in the end. Or rather, I got there. Anyway…none of us want to see him hurt. And…”

The unspoken _‘And you and your father are the ones that hurt him the most’_ hangs in the air.

The silence after that is tense, and awkward. And Azula knows she’s not making it up, it’s written in the hard lines of Katara’s frown, part concern (for Zuko, definitely), part distrust (extremely valid), and part…guilt? No, that can’t be what it is. Unless…

But Katara is, in fact, correct. Zuko was hurt, badly, and Azula won’t play pretend anymore. She won’t act like she was innocent in it all. She won’t act like she saw what Father was doing and offered her support. No, she…followed the bastard’s example. She treated Zuko like dirt when he needed her the most, and she hurt him, just like Father did, and there’s no redemption for that. There’s not a single way she can make it better or make it right, and knowing that…she knows she’s stuck here. If she were Zuko, _Azula_ wouldn’t want Azula to see the light of day ever again.

(But then…she’s not Zuko. And Zuko isn’t her.)

And it’s frustrating. It’s so fucking _frustrating_ because she doesn’t know what to do with all… _this._ This knowledge and the weight it carries. It’s exhausting, and it makes her feel sick to her stomach, and sometimes, when she lay awake at night, she finds herself wishing that she could take it all back. Every moment of it.

_BetterSisterBetterDaughterBetterFriendBetterPerson—_

She’s in that hazy, strange, halfway-here-but-somewhere-else-at-the-same-time state of being (mostly due to the medicinal regimen she’s on but hey) when Katara goes to leave, and desperately tries to pull herself out of it. Katara is halfway through the door when Azula finally manages to say,

“He was my hero.”

Her vision is still unfocused. She still has yet to move her head from where it lolled to the side. But she smiles.

“Obviously not for very long, what with our parents turning us against each other the way they did, but…when I was little, I admired him. He was my best friend.”

She’s not sure if this is a perk or a downfall, but sometimes, her memories are vivid. In the beginning, it was like she was there again, and that…was not a fun time. But the memory that comes to her now is a good one, she thinks. Yeah, it’s a good one. Perhaps not as vividly as she would have when she first started treatment, she can almost smell the salty sea air, hear the waves crash upon the shore, and feel the sand beneath her toes.

“Before Mom left,” Azula continues, gradually pulling herself back into lucidity. “We’d go to Ember Island every year. Did he tell you that?”

“Yeah,” Katara murmurs. Quietly, she returns to her seat. “He didn’t talk much about it, though.”

“No, I bet not. Sometimes it’s…” and Azula struggles to find the words, struggles to allow herself to unload all this on an enemy. Former enemy? Regardless, “Sometimes it’s hard to think about when our family was actually happy. I was…still really little.

“Mom loved Zuko more than me, it’s just a fact,” Azula continues. When Katara pulls a face, Azula finds herself laughing. “You needn’t look so horrified. Just like Dad liked me better, Mom liked Zuko better.”

“But I thought…” Katara halts, averts her eyes. “The way Zuko talked about your mother it seemed like…”

“Like they were really close? Well, they were. Zuko was always quick tempered and emotional. Sensitive, certainly. Mom always stuck up for him, comforted him. But…the older I got, the more I turned out like Dad,” she doesn’t mean to sound so bitter, certainly, but she can’t help it.

_BetterDaughterBetterSister—_

“But before that…before I learned firebending and before Mom and Dad…pushed us away from each other, Zuko and I were actually very close. I remember…playing on the beach at Ember Island. I vaguely remember crawling into his bed when I was frightened. And I remember more than once when he’d take the blame for _my_ mischief just so I wouldn’t get in trouble.”

A sigh escapes the ex-princess, and she toys with a strand of her hair.

“I remember Ember Island specifically, because…” what was it that Lo and Li had said? “Someone told me once that, that place had a way of giving you a clean slate. Revealing who you really are. Like smoothing out all your rough edges and leaving you bare. And I guess that’s true. If it tells you anything, Mom and Dad argued there a lot more than they did at home, even if Uncle Iroh tried to shield us from that as much as he could.

“And I think that’s why it was better there. Not because Mom and Dad were fighting, but because I spent most of my time around Zuko and Uncle, and our cousin, Lu Ten, before he…yeah. Anyway, we could be…ourselves. We could be _kids,_ ” Azula pauses for a moment, sighs softly, and brushes her hair back from her face. “Even the last time we were there. Mai and Ty Lee came with us. Don’t get me wrong, it was a total shitshow at first,” Katara huffs out a laugh, at that. “We went to this party and it was absolute bullshit. I tried flirting with some guy, but it’s totally useless flirting with some random guy at a party when you’re—yeah. Anyway, the party was a disaster.”

“Most parties are,” Katara puts in. It’s weird how their conversation is going. Katara seems…less tense, for some reason.

“Especially parties with a bunch of posers whose rich parents are out of town.”

“Oh _spirits._ ”

“Right? But, yeah. I found Zuko at our old house. He looked so…sad. I mean, he always had that look, after Mom left, but I think that moment is when I really began to understand just how fucking _unfair_ our childhood was. Mom and Dad picked favorites. Mom’s love for Zuko was unconditional, but Dad…he’s not capable of love, I don’t think, and I tried so _hard_ not to think about what that meant for me. I pushed that as far down as I could, and I agreed when Zuko wanted to burn our family portrait because I was so…bitter.

“I think that was the beginning of the end, you know? We aired out all our shit by the fire. All of us. And it felt great, immediately afterwards, but Zuko had been hurt so bad, and I was so fucking lonely even though I was surrounded by people who I loved. Who I thought loved me. But all I ever did was mistreat them.” 

Azula lets out a shaky sigh, gripping the armrests of her chair. She feels like she might cry.

“I don’t hate him,” she continues, and curses her voice for shaking so. “I could never _hate_ him. I was envious and I was braggadocious, but…he never did anything _wrong._ I don’t know…if he told you how he got his scar or why he was banished, but it’s not my story to tell. All I can say is that those two things are directly linked, and he didn’t deserve it. At all. He was just trying to do the right thing, trying to do right by his people who he loved so much, and I just _let it all happen._ ”

Azula shudders when she thinks about that day. Shudders when she thinks about the look on her face and her exact line of thinking when It happened, when she thinks about the look on Zhao’s face and how Zuko begged for mercy.

“Since I’ve been in here,” she continues, “All I’ve had to do to occupy myself is look back on my life. Look back on everything I’ve done and everything that’s been done to me, and I hate the person I see. So maybe Mother was right about me, I don’t know. I don’t know how to _fix_ this. So you don’t need to come in here and tell me not to hurt my brother. You don’t need to come in here and tell me that I’m a rotten sister, and warn me about what’ll happen if I hurt him, because I know that. All of that.”

Katara looks like she wants to say something, but doesn’t know, exactly, what to say.

“I can tell you really do love him,” Azula continues. “Just like you love your brother. And that’s great, it really is. He deserves people who love him and support him. And he loves all of you. I mean, seriously, he never shuts up about any of you. _Especially_ Sokka, oh spirits.” she counts it as a win when Katara laughs, and nods her head in agreement. “So I can totally see why you’d be concerned, and while I want to be jealous, I don’t think I really deserve to be, after everything? But…I don't know. I think I’m happy for him? And I like that. I like that, for once, I don’t have to be bitter about something? I guess.”

She rambled that whole time, and she knows she did. She doesn’t even know if she made any sense, but Katara is nodding, like it makes sense to her.

Fair enough. Most of the people she spends her time around are ramblers.

“Sometimes I forget,” she starts, and strangely enough, her hand drifts to her necklace, like it’s something she needs to ground her. “Sometimes I forget that we’re the same age.”

“…We are?”

“I just turned fifteen,” Katara explains, and, huh. Fancy that. “And I don’t know, it never totally occurred to me that Sokka and I weren’t the only ones that had to grow up quickly, until recently. I…” she struggles with her words, exhaling harshly through her nose. “I don’t know, Azula, I came here with the intention of…I guess, still hating you by the time I left. I wanted to prove a point.”

“Because you’re very protective of the ones you love,” Azula repeats. “And that’s admirable.”

Katara’s smile is soft, somewhat encouraging. She looks almost…motherly. Azula refuses to admit that her heart aches.

“Thank you,” she says. “But the point I wanted to prove is already moot. I wanted Zuko to know that you’d never be able to change, but hearing you speak like that…look, I didn’t believe your brother, when he came to us and told us all he wanted to do was help. But I see the same look on your face as I did on him back then. And I listened to someone who’s been hurt just as much as he’s been.”

“I wouldn’t—,”

“Don’t try to argue with me,” Katara interrupts, but she looks half amused. “You don’t bear the same physical scars he does, no, but…you were mistreated, too. You had the same, tyrannical, cruel father he did, and it didn’t help that your mother treated you like she did.

“The way you spoke about him, just now? It sounded like someone who loves their brother, very much. It sounded like someone who just wants him to be happy.”

“Better late than never,” Azula replies, weakly.

“No, but really,” Katara insists. “The fact that you got there at all is amazing to me. After everything your parents did to you both, to make you feel the way you both felt…I can tell you’re both healing, and that’s incredible.”

“It doesn’t feel much like it, sometimes.”

“I don’t doubt that much. Nobody ever said that healing was a quick process,” Katara reminds her, gently. “But the important part is that you’re trying. Both of you. I’m…sorry about the attitude that led me here, but I’m not sorry I came. Thank you, for indulging me.”

She stands then, gets ready to leave. It’s not until she’s at the door that Azula calls,

“Katara?”

“Hm?”

“…thank you.”

Katara smiles at her again, offers a nod, and then she’s gone.

* * *

_She’d been looking forward to it, the Agni Kai. Her brother was a twerp, anyway. Annoying and whiny and entirely too mopey after their mother left. Azula told herself that he deserved it. Azula told herself that she wasn’t scared of the outcome. Azula told herself that she didn’t care about what might become of her brother._

_And then Zuko begged and pleaded with their father. Begged forgiveness, on his knees, tears streaming down his face. Azula told herself that she was amused. She told herself that the sounds of her brother’s screams didn’t make her sick to his stomach, and told herself that she wasn’t horrified by what their father did. She did an incredible job of convincing herself as much._

_But the thoughts were still there, at the back of her mind. She still wondered, however briefly, if the same could happen to her._

_And then Zuko left, and Azula was alone._

* * *

After the first time the nurses allowed them to take a walk in the gardens, it became a weekly thing for them. As they stroll, Zuko talks about his friends, he talks about the war reparations, he talks about stuffy advisors and annoying politicians, and Azula listens. She doesn’t have much to talk about, really. She wishes she did, but she doesn’t. So she listens, and she secretly wishes she could be there.

Sometimes, if Zuko turns his head just so or if the light catches him in a certain way, he looks just like Mom, and Azula doesn’t know how to feel about that. But then, sometimes he begins to look like Dad, and she knows he must _hate_ that. She doesn’t point it out. Especially not after that day at the pond. It’s not like things were tense afterwards, at least, not any more then they usually are, but they have this unspoken agreement that they don’t talk about their parents. Not after everything.

Azula is still coming to terms with everything she shoved way down. She knew, deep in her heart of hearts, that Ozai was a terrifying man. She knew that, had things been different, he might not have treated her any different than he treated Zuko. Her brother was, unfortunately, everything that Ozai hated. Stubborn in ways that not even the Fire Lord could break, sensitive and kind in ways that their father would never be able to comprehend.

There’s also the fact that he’s, y’know, gay. Sozin had outlawed same-sex marriage, and with that, came a sense of disgust for all of those not attracted to the opposite sex. A sense of shame for those who _were_ attracted to the same sex. So Zuko tried, to no avail, to hide who he was, but everyone who Knew Him, knew that about him.

Azula observed this, and doubled down. Tried to trick everyone into believing that yes, she did like boys, and she’d marry a nice man and have a few kids with him and all would be well. If Dad didn’t know her Secret, he wouldn’t be ashamed of her. If Dad didn’t know her Secret, she wouldn’t wind up like Zuko.

Azula knows, now, that all efforts concerning their family, up until the end of the war, were futile. 

She shakes herself out of her thoughts, glances up to her brother, and notices,

“You seem awfully chipper today. Has Aang gotten to you? I almost miss the broody Zuzu.”

“Ha, ha,” Zuko remarks, drily. But his grin, tiny though it may be, does not fade. “No, but remember Sozin’s law concerning marriage?”

“Yeah, obviously,” how could she not?

“The paperwork went through today,” Zuko continues, and his smile grows until his eyes crinkle at the corners. “That shit law is no more.”

Azula perks up despite herself, and grins.

“No kidding? Zuko, that’s amazing!” she says, because it is. She knows she’ll never again see anything aside from this garden and the four walls of her room, but she’s getting to a place where, yeah, she’s happy for her brother. She’s happy that he can marry whoever the hell he wants to, and if someone wants to judge him for it they can suck it up, because he’s the Fire Lord and he can love whoever he damn well pleases. “And quick, wow.”

“I had help,” he admits. “Aang and Katara helped me draft the new curriculum, sans propaganda, and Toph is pretty much solely responsible for putting the pressure on those asshole politicians that I have to meet with more often than I’d like to.”

Azula laughs, quiet though it may be, and crosses her arms.

“And…did Sokka have anything to do with any of it? As your most trusted ambassador?”

It feels…normal. To tease him like this. It’s not hostile, and when Zuko blushes, as he almost always does when the Water Tribe boy is mentioned, it’s not out of anger or embarrassment. Azula counts it as a win.

“He did,” Zuko tells her, although he doesn’t elaborate.

They walk in comfortable silence once more, and Azula takes the time to think about some things. The way Zuko talks about Sokka…she can tell he really loves him, and she wonders if Sokka loves him back. She thinks, why shouldn’t he? From stories she’s heard they’re incredibly compatible. Wry sarcasm and a brand of humor unique to the pair of them. She briefly remembers Boiling Rock, how they worked in tandem, like they’ve been a team their entire lives. She thinks, if Sokka doesn’t return Zuko’s feelings, he’s either not into men, or an idiot.

Or both. 

But that’s neither here nor there.

And Azula begins to wonder…was there ever anyone like that for her? Was there ever anyone that she trusted completely, who she was in sync with like that? She realizes that, no…while she had people she trusted, most others feared her.

Like Mai, and Ty Lee.

But then…thinking of how her brother speaks of Sokka, she does, in fact, recognize the feeling. The gentle, subconscious smile when she thinks about a certain person, the fluttering in her chest and the way that, when Azula’s mind isn’t on other things, her thoughts are filled with perpetually wide eyes, an ever-present smile, and a very…pink attitude. Azula recognizes this feeling called love, and she knows that she felt it for Ty Lee, but then…

It was all unrequited, wasn’t it? And, that may very well have been Azula’s fault, or it could be that Ty Lee isn’t like her, and maybe it’s a mix of both. She may never know.

And it’s strange, because it was always obvious with Zuko. Little tells, here and there. It’s part of who he is, although he tried so desperately to hide it. So, while Azula is happy for him, that he doesn’t have to be ashamed of himself anymore, she wonders…was she as obvious as he was? Or did she do a better job of hiding it? Did their father know? Did their mother know? Did Uncle know? Was she not as good at keeping a secret (that shouldn’t have had to be a secret at all) as she thought she was?

Quietly, she asks,

“Did you know…?”

Zuko glances down at her, curious.

“Did I know what?”

“That I’m…that I don’t, like… _like_ boys. That I…yeah.”

Zuko pauses. He chooses his next words carefully, a recent skill of his that he’s picked up. It’s a far cry from when they were younger, when he’d burst out with the first thing on his mind.

“I had…an inkling,” he says, slowly. “I didn’t know for certain, not until just now. It was, uh…it was when we were on Ember Island. I saw your jealousy, when those guys were flirting with Ty Lee.” His smile is kind, and encouraging. “I couldn’t tell, at the time, who you were jealous of, exactly.”

Oh.

_Oh…_

She’d nearly forgotten about that. She talked about it, briefly, with Katara, but didn't go in depth.

“I flirted with an asshole guy at a party,” she groans. “And I don’t even _like_ guys. All because of misplaced jealousy? That’s…ugh.”

“I get it,” Zuko laughs. “Sometimes we tell other people a lie about who we are so much that we start to believe it ourselves.”

“You sound like Uncle.”

“Hey, spend three years with the guy…” again, Zuko laughs, a soft, somehow affectionate sound. “No, I’d much prefer to turn out to be someone like Uncle Iroh than…”

Than someone like their father.

Honestly, she doesn’t blame him.

* * *

_When Azula was little, she didn’t like storms. She hated them, actually. Up until she was about four or five, she would be startled enough by blinding bolts of lightning and deafening claps of thunder that she’d run to her brother’s side for comfort. And he was always there for her._

_By the time she was eleven, she’d gotten over it. Or at least, she thought she had. But despite her best efforts, the fateful Agni Kai played on repeat in her mind while she slept, and despite the fact that she tried to convince herself that it wasn’t a big deal, that it wasn’t a terrifying thought to be left alone with their father, her subconscious often reminded her how horrifying it was._

_And sometimes, in her dreams, the Agni Kai went differently. Sometimes, in her dreams, Father would deal a deadly strike, a bolt of lightning right to Zuko’s heart, and he would be Gone, just like that. Gone without a trace, just like Mother._

_And she woke up, one night, in the middle of a dream just like that, the storm raging on outside. In her sleep-addled mind, the lightning outside was terrifying, just like it had been when she was a little kid, and she found herself desperately needing to check in on her brother._

_She ran down the corridors to his room, but…he wasn’t there. And for several, painful moments, she wondered if she was still dreaming. She wondered if Zuko actually_ did _die, and that these last few weeks had been an elaborate fantasy she’d dreamt up._

_Logic kicked in, of course, and she remembered that he’d been banished. Somehow, that didn’t make her feel any better._

* * *

It’s funny to her how the tables have turned.

Azula was terrified of lightning until she learned to wield it herself. Zuko wasn’t afraid of it at all, until he learned how to redirect it.

Correction, until his own family used it against him.

And he tells her it’s not her fault, he tells her that Father is the only one to blame, that it’s not a big deal, really, he’ll get over it! But she knows it’s all a lie. He pales every time he sees it, and that’s not a reaction he can hide. However subconsciously, however briefly, he tenses and his eyes flicker toward Azula and she _knows_ that his first thought is their Agni Kai, all those months ago. She knows that Father played his part in it, yes, but Azula did too.

She wants to believe her brother’s words. She wants to believe that she’s not stuck here, that she’s not damned, that she’s not hopeless, that she can be whole. She wants to believe that she’s not at fault for Zuko’s trauma, but she _is._ Even if those first four things are possible, the fact of the matter is, the last thing, his insistence that she wasn’t at fault for his newfound dislike of lightning, was a blatant lie.

But part of Azula has to believe that she can be forgiven for who she’s been. Part of her has to believe that she can atone for everything she’s done to her own family. Part of her has to believe that she can make things right, because she’ll go crazier than she already believes herself to be if she doesn’t.

She doesn’t know what to do, she doesn’t. She doesn’t even know if she _can_ do anything. So it’s a tiny gesture, one that she doesn’t think is nearly enough, to hug him. To sing him the song that he sang to her, the song that Uncle taught them. But the thing is, it wouldn’t seem like anything major to someone on the outside looking in, when the tension leaks from Zuko’s shoulders and allows himself to be comforted, but to Azula, it’s everything. The fact that he trusts her in one of his weakest moments, the fact that he lets Azula be the one to comfort him instead of the other way around for once, means the world to her.

And when she thinks about these last few months, thinks about how far she’s come, how far Zuko has come, she’s…Agni, she’s _ecstatic._ She’s proud of Zuko, of course. Proud of his accomplishments and proud of the fact that he found friends who love him and support him and proud of the fact that he’s starting to accept that he’s more than his past, more than what their father did to him and said he was, and it’s a strange, foreign feeling but it’s nice. It’s a nice change from bitter jealousy.

And Azula is proud of herself. Again, it feels so weird to her because all the pride she had before was based solely on the praise she received from a father that never truly loved her. All the pride she had before was directly linked to the fear she inspired in even her closest friends, and, spirits, probably even her mother and her brother. But now…she’s proud of herself for recognizing these flaws in herself, recognizing that she needs to work on _a lot_ to become a better person than she was yesterday, and, spirits be damned, she’s downright impressed with herself for even trying to put in the work.

Some days, that thought will not be as clear as it is today. Some days, she’ll backtrack entirely, and some days, she’ll feel like she’s all the way back at square one. But that is not today. And today is what’s most important.

* * *

A few weeks later, she has this horrid nightmare.

She’s had them in the past. Hell, she’s had them recently. Sometimes Zuko was there the next day to talk about it with her, and sometimes it was several days before or after his visit, and by the time he came back, she’d forgotten about it.

But this one is different.

She’s dreamt of Zuko’s Agni Kai with Father many times in the past, and she’s dreamt of this outcome every time. It’s not the first time she’s seen Zuko’s eyes widen in horror and seen the flash of lightning. It’s not the first time she’s seen him go limp and lifeless, and it’s _far_ from the first time she’s looked into his eyes to see nothing there.

But the view is different, this time.

Before, in these dreams, she’d been watching from the sidelines, just as she had in real life. She’d seen Zhao smirking, and she’d seen Father’s cold, cold eyes, and she’d seen Uncle’s responding fury. But this time…she’s right there, in front of her brother. She sees the moment the light dims from his eyes. And when Azula looks down, she realizes, to her own horror, that it was not their father that dealt that last, deadly blow.

It was her.

“Well done, Azula,” Father says, suddenly next to her.

“What…?” she finds herself stumbling over her words, and when she looks to her father, his face is distorted, ugly. His smirk is cruel, and horrible. “I didn’t…no, it wasn’t supposed to go that far! I…”

She’s enveloped in darkness. A cold, unending darkness, and she stumbles to try and find her way out, to find the light. She tries to call out for Zuko, for Mother, Uncle, Father, anyone to come find her, but she can’t find her voice. No matter how much air she pulls into her lungs, she can barely even _breathe._ She feels like she’s drowning, and she’s reminded, briefly, of when Katara froze them both for however long it was, because she can’t move, all of a sudden, no matter how hard she tries.

An ear-piercing scream cuts through the silence, and Azula’s blood runs cold. The invisible restraints holding her prisoner are gone as soon as they appear, and she runs toward the sound. Maybe it’s memory, or maybe it’s something else, but Azula recognizes the owner of the voice that shattered the world around her, and she cries,

“Mom!”

And she appears, like she’s in a spotlight. Her back is turned to Azula, and she holds someone in her arms, hunched over them. Horrible sobs wrack her body, and Azula isn’t sure if her mother hears her approach.

“Mom…?”

“You did this,” Ursa accuses. When she looks over her shoulder her eyes are cold, severe. “ _You did this!_ ”

“What? No, I…”

She sees him, then. Zuko, thirteen years old but with no chance of getting any older, unmoving, eyes wide open. The wound over his heart is the one Azula gave him.

“No!” she cries, and stumbles backwards. “No, I-I didn’t mean to!”

“You’re a _monster!_ ”

“No! Mom, please, I…I never wanted this! It wasn’t supposed to be like this! Mom!”

She reaches forward; Mother and Zuko disappear in a cloud of smoke. But Mother’s sobs still ring in Azula’s ears, still reverberate off the walls and threaten to shake the ground beneath Azula’s feet. The ceiling begins to crumble above her, not that she can see it, of course, but she can feel it begin to cave in.

“Azula?”

No, this is good. She can hear Zuko’s voice. He’s okay. She turns to see him, and relief floods her, although his back is turned. She runs to him, and _spirits,_ she feels like crying, because she didn’t do all this work, and she didn’t put herself through so much to realize she cares about him, only to hurt him again.

“Zuko!”

He doesn’t turn to greet her.

“Why, Azula?”

“Why what?” she asks, cautiously. “What are you talking about, Zuzu?”

“Why did you do this to me?”

He finally turns around, and bile crawls up Azula’s throat.

“No, Zuko—!”

He’s pale. He’s so, so pale, and his face is distorted just like Father’s had been, and his eyes are so cold, so _empty_. His fire has burned out, and he looks almost like an angry, vengeful spirit.

“Why did you do this to me?” he repeats. His voice echoes, echoes too much, and it’s soft, but it’s too loud all at once, and his words are venom that paralyze her. She’s cold, she’s freezing cold, and all she can hear is that question.

That same question. Over, and over, and over again.

_Why did you do this to me!?_

Azula screams herself awake. She tries, and she tries, and she _tries_ to get the dream out of her head, but it won’t leave her, and she can still see them, can still see her family as they were in the dream. Their blank eyes staring at her, their words threatening to drown her in her own bed. So she screams, and she tries to push herself away, and she tries to cover her eyes and will them away but she _still sees them_ and someone is gripping her arms, and _no_ this can’t be happening! No, no, _NO—_

“Azula, it’s alright!”

The voice of her favorite nurse, Yori, pulls her out of her hell, slowly but surely.

“It was only a dream,” she soothes. “Just a dream.”

“But, Zuko—!”

“Is sleeping safely at home, I’m sure of it. Breathe, Azula, you’re alright. You and your brother are safe.”

Deep breaths in, deep breaths out. Yori counts for her. In for four, hold for seven, and breathe out for eight. They repeat the process until Azula feels like her heart has stopped racing, and she’s no longer terrified that her parents are lurking in the shadows. Yori smiles at her, soft and encouraging. She’s always very sweet, but has no time for bullshit—that’s why she’s Azula’s favorite.

“…my throat hurts,” Azula complains, and Yori chuckles indulgently.

“I’ll get you some tea. It’ll help you sleep better, too.”

Part of Azula doesn’t want it. But she knows it’s better to be safe, and sleep soundly, than wake up in an hour from another terrible nightmare. So she agrees, and later, as she drifts off to sleep, she remembers that Zuko is coming tomorrow. She’ll tell him about the dream, and everything will be okay.

But Zuko does not come.

* * *

_When later asked, both siblings would tell you that they didn’t remember where their bitter rivalry got its start, who the jealousy began with. But Azula knew._

_She thought it might have started with her. What with Mom so obviously loving Zuko more than her. But it wasn't. She was content, because even when their father scolded her and their mother was harsh with her, she had her brother to turn to. Her brother, who she looked up to, admired and adored._

_But then, Azula proved herself to be a natural at firebending. A true prodigy, their father said. And suddenly, everything changed. Father gave Azula all the attention that Zuko always craved, and it was the beginning of the end._

_And Azula began to realize, the more Zuko sought out their Mother, how differently they were both treated. How different Mother was with Zuko. How different Father was with Azula._

_It started small. They’d play together less. Talk to each other less. And as the years went on, they drifted further and further apart, until they were practically strangers to each other._

* * *

He hates her.

He must hate her.

He _must_ think she’s a monster.

Why else wouldn’t he have shown last week? Why else would he have left Azula with no explanation for his absence? Was he toying with her the whole time? What was his _goal?_

Azula’s rational mind tells her that Zuko was merely busy last week; he is the Fire Lord, after all. But her rational mind is drowned out by those same words from her dream. And she wants her brother, but she doesn’t want to see his face ever again, and she _hurts_ and she wants him to hurt, and she wants to tear his eyes out but she wants to be held, she wants someone to tell her that everything is okay.

_You’re a monster!_

She’s not. She’s _not!_ She’s trying so hard. She’s trying so fucking hard to be a better person.

_You did this!_

But she’s terrified.

_Why did you do this to me?_

And she’s angry. And Zuko is here now, and she wants him to stay but she wants nothing to do with him, and the two conflicting feelings collide and build within her until she can’t do anything but let it all out, unleash her rage by throwing everything she can get her hands on, by throwing accusations at her brother that deep in her heart of hearts she knows isn’t true, but they’re ugly, poisonous lies that demand to be felt and heard and believed.

She can’t calm herself down, no matter how hard she tries, and his hands are on his wrists, and his grip is tight and she could kill him right now, if she really wanted to, she could. But her thoughts stray back to that horrible, _horrible_ dream she had, and the thought of…doing that makes her ill, and she just wants her brother. _She just wants her brother._

“You hate me!” she hears herself accuse. “ _Admit it!_ ”

And she can see that he looks terribly saddened by that. But not just because she’d accuse him of something like that, and it doesn’t…look like guilt. If anything, he might be saddened that she believes he could ever hate her. And she knows the feeling, because she could never hate him.

“No, I don’t hate you,” he tells her.

She wants so badly to believe him. But she doesn't know why he shouldn’t hate her. She…

“I don’t hate you,” he repeats. “You don’t have to believe me, but I don’t hate you, Azula. I love you. You’re my sister, and I love you.”

She does believe him.

She doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s the look on his face, the sincerity in his voice. Maybe it’s that he was always a shit liar and she knows that about him. But she believes him.

And she crumbles. Everything she felt after her nightmare, all her terror and anger and regret, comes pouring out of her. All she wanted was her brother, and he came for her. He was late, sure, but better late than never. He _was_ busy last week, Azula knows, because he wouldn’t drop her like that. He could never. He said he loves her, and she believes him.

And she loves him, too, she does. He’s her brother, and he’s annoying and he’s a dork, and he’s entirely too sensitive, but he’s here for her. He’s here for her now, and he always will be. All Azula needed was that confirmation. And she knows she doesn’t need him to protect her, she knows that she could take care of herself, and she knows that she’s strong by herself, but…

It’s nice to have someone there to support her. Because she knows she can’t be strong all the time. Sometimes she needs to take the weight off her shoulders, and let someone else help her carry her burden. Zuko learned that lesson about himself, it’s why he’s let his friends help him as much as they do. Without knowing, he taught his sister that it’s okay to let your strength waver every now and then.

Because if you fall, someone will always be there to catch you.

**Author's Note:**

> i had to take a smoke break in the middle of editing this, because i didn't expect it to be so LONG and it got out of hand. but i love azula so i'm happy.
> 
> anyway i am proudly a part of the Fire Siblings Protection Squad. i'm not sure if i'm gonna have a set update schedule (when have i ever stuck to those, anyway?) for this series, and as of right now i don't have a plan, i'm kinda just writing as the muse hits me.
> 
> come pester me on twitter! [ @AlyeskaWrites ](https://twitter.com/AlyeskaWrites)


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